


Of Mages and Rogues

by Glaire_Cordon, i_am_greg_lestrade



Series: The Twins RP [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-18 16:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3576069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaire_Cordon/pseuds/Glaire_Cordon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_greg_lestrade/pseuds/i_am_greg_lestrade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade are traveling companions, working together to make sure the other sees the next sunrise. It started off professional, easy. Until the lines between companion and something more became blurred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One with the Ale

“Myc! Behind you!!” Greg yelled right before a sword whizzed past his companion’s head, missing by inches. Greg threw a dagger and it slid right between the thief’s ribs and lodging in this lung. Greg smirked and quickly dodge the blundering attack of another, grabbing the man’s face, whipping himself around and landing on his back, effectively snapping his neck and launching himself at the next one.

Mycroft moved, throwing his hands out, sending two others flying backwards. He heard some more behind him and he swore under his breath. “Gregory! We’ve got more!” he drew his staff and started throwing spells left and right. Mycroft flipped backwards and landed next to his friend. “They just-” he threw his hand out again- “Keep coming!”

Greg crossed his arms over his body and pulled out his twin daggers, taking a defensive pose. “Yeah, I noticed. We need a plan. I have a couple smoke bombs left. If you light them, I can get us out of here. We have to run.” Greg darted forward and spun, his clock swirling about him before slashed downward and killed another attacker. He eyes flicked from each attacker, calculating the amount. He leaped back over to where Mycroft was fending two off. “Duck!” Greg shouted before bracing a foot on Mycroft’s shoulder and pushing off, burying his daggers in the assailiants' chests. “Bloody hell. There are 18 left. Fight or flee, Myc? I can go-” he dodged and attack and cut off a man’s arm, leaving him screaming-“all day!”

Mycroft froze several attackers, before setting a couple more on fire, blasting others to Kingdom Come. “I know you can go all day, you’ve done it before! But for the time being, let’s get out of here!” When Gregory launched his smoke bomb, they fled, covering ground quickly, before stopping about five miles form where they had been. Mycroft was panting hard, and he leaned against a tree, sheathing his staff. “Just for one night I would like camp not to get ambushed by thieves. Is that too much to ask?” he grumbled. He glanced up at his companion, who was breathing hard as well.

Greg chuckled, hands on his knees. His hood flopped onto his head, making him stand up and brush it back. His shaggy silver hair was speckled with dry blood, his gloves even worse. “I guess it is. They’re bloody everywhere. Don’t they know we don’t have anything worth stealing? Well, except our weapons. But they’ll have to pry T’ansin and Alorin from my cold, dead hands if they want them.” He smirked and looked at Mycroft. “You alright? Hurt at all?” Greg had gotten a cut on his cheek, but he paid no mind to it.

Mycroft shook his head, until he went to run his left hand through his hair. “Gah!” He looked at his arms and saw a cut that ran mid-arm to his elbow. “Other than that, I’m all right.” He opened his pack and pulled out some bandages, using his teeth to pull it tight, stopping the bleeding. “We’ll have to get more basic supplies in the next town we find. We’re low on bandages.”

Greg flinched at seeing his friend hurt, but said nothing about it, knowing he could handle himself. He’d been getting more concerned lately when it comes to Mycroft, always taking extra care to make sure he’s okay. He didn’t know what that meant, just that Mycroft meant a lot to him, like a brother. Or more. He didn’t know. He shook his head and sat on the ground, putting his arms behind him and leaning back. “Yeah. And some good food would be nice. I’m a growing man. I need sustenance.” He snorted. “And ale. Ale would be great.”

Mycroft laughed, sitting on the ground next to his friend. “You and your ale. I sear if we weren’t running around all the time looking for odd jobs, you’d be in the pub.” He lightly punched Gregory, smiling, all the while ignoring the rapid beating of his heart. They had been working together for a year for so, traveling and looking for jobs to help people out. At first it had been a mutual agreement, “you-watch-my-back, I’ll-watch-yours”, but it quickly grew to be more than that.

God his smile...Greg caught himself thinking. He quickly shook his head and blinked. “Yep. A pub sounds amazing right now. Warm and there is ALE and food. Not like here, cold on the ground, STARVING TO DEATH.” He flung himself backwards and groaned dramatically, his arms straight out from his body.

Mycroft shook his head at his friend’s dramatics. “Do you want me to find the closest town? So that we may have a warm room and a bed for the night?” He had done it before, with great success, he just didn’t do it often. “And it wouldn’t be so cold if you slept in a tent, you silly creature.”

“Tents are the devil, Mycroft. They are.” Greg sat up again, a little puff of dust coming from his cloak. “And, if you can, I would loVE THAT.” He smiled widely and looked fondly at Mycroft.

Mycroft shook his head again. “We’ll see about that next time it rains,” he pointed out. He stood back up and drew his staff again, drawing a circle in the ground. Drawing runes to find and direct, he started chanting under his breath. Soon, the circle was glowing a soft blue and an arrow appeared spinning around before it pointed south, ten small notches presenting the ten miles they would need to go. “There. Ten miles south. Happy?”

Greg never got tired of watching his friend and his magic. Greg had never been gifted like that, though his mother had been a healer. Greg had not one drop pf magic in his blood aside from that, so when Mycroft casted and used his, Greg always felt the need to watch and appreciate it. It’s not common to be friends with a magical being. And Greg was fortunate enough to fight with one. He smiled again, admiration on his face. “Yeah, actually. We could get there by dark, if we hurry.” Greg picked himself off the ground and put his hood up. “Just travelers. Looking for a place to hole up for a night.” Greg glances at Mycroft form under his hood. All lean and tall with his caster’s hands. Greg swallowed and looked away, starting down the path.

Mycroft followed, sheathing his staff again. A light picked up and made him pull his cloak tighter around him. He had his hair tied with a piece of leather to keep it out of his face. He had a small dagger on him, only for emergencies. He pulled it out, and gathered his hair in one hand, slicing through it in one stroke. Mycroft had let it grow but preferred it short. He set the hair on fire as to avoid more scent to be left behind than there would be already.

Greg cocked his head as Mycroft cut his hair. For as long as he’d known him, he’d had longer hair. It was odd seeing him cut it...but he looked good without it. Greg said nothing and bit his lip, turning away.

“All in for the night! All in for the night! The gate closes in a quarter hour!” Mycroft and Gregory passed into the town, the setting off to their left. “Let’s find an inn.”

“Fooood....” Greg moaned, smelling backing bread in the bakery right inside the gates. He elbowed Mycroft and pointed up the walk. “There. A pub with an inn. Can you say ‘perfection’?” Greg hurried ahead, gripping Mycroft’s elbow as he charged into the building. The sounds of laughter and glasses clinking greeted them as the entered. Greg inhales the smell of alcohol and smoke and cooking meat, sighing. “Yes.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes at his friend. “Go get us a table and some food. I’ll get us a room for the night.” He gently pushed Gregory in the direction into the pub area and walked down the hall to the inn. “I need a room with two beds for the night.” The inn keeper checked his books. “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t have one room left and it has only one bed.” Mycroft swallowed before making a two second decision. “I’ll take it.” He exchanged money before going back to find Gregory.

Greg had ordered two pints and sat at a corner table, away from the main area of the pub. He had gotten a leg of lamb and was waiting for Mycroft, so they could share it. He noticed an odd expression on Mycroft’s face the grin on his own immediately fell. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me they’re out of rooms.”

Mycroft sat down and shook his head. “They are out of rooms now, I got the last one. It only has one bed.” He said not looking at his friend. He took a long drink of his pint, observing the rooms at large.

Greg blinked. One bed. As in, they’re going to either share it or of them them is taking the floor. One bed. “Hm,” was his only reply. He looked away and took a heady gulp of his ale. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the aspect of sleeping in the same bed as Mycroft. It wasn’t that he objected to it...not at all.

“I can take the floor,” Mycroft offered, even though he knew Gregory would argue with him for it. This had never happened, they had always had two beds in the rooms they were in, but this...this was new territory. They didn’t even share a tent.

His eyes shot back to Mycroft’s face. “No, absolutely not. I have the floor, if anyone.” But Greg wasn’t opposed to sharing the bed. He...didn’t mind to. But, if Mycroft didn’t want to, they wouldn’t. Simple. His cheeks warmed and he looked away. He suddenly wasn’t hungry. The nerves had moved in.

Mycroft huffed. “We’re grown men, surely we can share a bed.” What are you suggest Holmes. “It’s only for one night.” He downed more of his ale, still not looking at Gregory.

Greg glanced at Mycroft and hurriedly looked away. “I’m going to get more ale.” Greg abruptly stood and walked over to the bar and ordered two more pints. Settle down, y’git. It’s only sleep. Greg chided. He brought the pints back over, a grin on his face. Play it off. Act like you aren’t nervous about it... “Another pint, my good sir.” He sat back down and relaxed in his chair, taking a huge gulp from his. “So are we gonna look for jobs around here? We could use the money and the supplies.”

Mycroft looked around. “There were bounty posters outside.” I’m not nervous, of course I’m not. He downed the last of his first ale and started on the second. “Let’s start there. But tomorrow. No good looking for a job drunk.”

“What, y’can’t handle two pints without getting drunk? Lightweight~” But, in all honesty, Greg was already feeling fuzzy himself, halfway into his second pint. He was drinking on an empty stomach, and he’d forgotten what that did to him.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his friend. “You’re drinking on an empty stomach. We both are. Lightweight has nothing to do with it.” He took another long drink from his and leaned back against his seat. The light in the pub did nothing to make Gregory look any less attractive than he normally did-and the alcohol was making him bold. “You’re beautiful you know.”

Play it cool, Greg. “Mmhm. You aren’t bad yourself, Myc.” Idiot. IDIOT. Greg furrowed his brow, avoiding Mycroft’s eyes. “I mean...Yeah. I think you’re attractive too...” The admission was easier said than he though and it took a huge weight off of his chest. He sighed and grinned, looking at Mycroft. “Like, when you’re smiling, it lights up a room.” Now that he’d gotten started, alcohol boosted him up like he could say all this without any hindrance. “And...and the way you fight! It’s amazing to see you go. A formidable fighter. Hell, Myc, you’d probably beat me in a contest.” Greg chuckled, cheeks warm, his skin buzzing. He looked at Mycroft with a huge grin on his face.

Mycroft’s eyebrows met his hair line. Well this is an interesting development. “We’ve never tested that. Our skills against one another. But seeing how deadly we both are, that would be a sight.” When Mycroft went to say something else, a fight started in the of the pub.

Greg’s head snapped around as two guys beat on each other, glasses bouncing to the floor and a woman being shoved back. She fell to the floor and scrambled back, away from the scuffle. Greg stood quickly, head only spinning a bit. He hurried to the woman and knelt beside her. “Hello, ma’am.” She just looked at him then slurred a sentence of a thick language Greg didn’t understand. “O-kay...” He gestured with his hand for her be helped up and helped her over to their table while the barkeep broke the fight up. “Myc, my man of many languages. Can you translate?” The woman spoke hurriedly in her language, eyes worried.

Mycroft folded his hands on the table. “Hello.” He said in Common and when she replied he was able to translate. “Her son was kidnapped two days ago and they headed West. She is offering 150 gold to get him back.” 150 gold? That was more money that they’d seen in months. He looked at Gregory. “What do you think?”

Greg considered the woman. She seem of noble stature to be seen in this seedy pub. He licked his lips. “I think we could.” He nodded. “Yeah. We get supplies in the morning and set out then.” He looked at Mycroft. “Sound alright?”

“It’s more money that we’ve seen in a while. Yes, we’ll do it.” He looked at the woman and accepted the offer. She smiled and placed a kiss to Mycroft’s mouth, making him start. She left and he sat there, more than a little stunned. “Uh...”

Greg, for some reason, felt a bit angry at that. Jealous?, a small voice chimed in the back of his head. He crossed his arms as the woman hurried out of the pub. He took his seat again, opposite Mycroft and took a swig of his drink. We wanted another, but the keep was busy. He put a foot up on his chair, resting his arm on his knee.

Mycroft noticed the change in Gregory’s demeanor. “Problem Gregory?” he asked, down the rest of his ale. By now he was more than a little buzzed.

“Nah, nothing. I’m just just out of ale.” He avoided Mycroft’s eyes, cheeks warm from more than the alcohol. He stood and wobbled only a little “Another?” He didn’t even wait for an answer. The keep was back behind the bar and he ordered two more, these on the house because the keep had noticed him helping the woman. Greg nodded his thanks and brought them back over, setting one in front of Mycroft and chugging half of his before he even sat. “House ale is the best. I like this stuff a-hic-lot.” He chuckled, his anger momentarily forgotten. “Oops...” The lamb sat untouched between them.

Mycroft drank of of his ale and knew he was going to have a hang over in the morning. “Sssssseems we forgot ‘bout the food.” He slurred, making eyes at his friend. “Bloody sssshame.”

Greg grinned his goofy grin, giggling at his friend. “Yup. Oh-hic!-oh wells~” He shrugged and took another swig of his drink,. “Jesus Christ, so handsome.” Greg murmured, looking at Mycroft, not realizing he said it out loud. He rested his hand on his palm, and smiled dreamily at Mycroft his mind foggy.

Mycroft looked at him. Mind slower than normal but still sharp. “Issss that you or the drink talking? I hope it’s you.” He leaned against the table, smiling at Gregory. “And ‘sides...you’re the attractive one....”

“Nononono. Youu, Myc... God, you’re hot. I’ve started realizin’ that more.” Greg’s grin fell from his face as he stared at Mycroft. With his flushed cheeks and, god, that smile...Greg sat back abruptly. “I think we should turn in for the night. I have the floor.” He stood and stumbled a nit, face on fire. He has a few cognitive thoughts left and one told him to stop himself, that he’ll regret it if he doesn’t. But...every other thought screamed for him to take a chance. To act. To do something...

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “We cnn share. W’can.” He argued. “C’mon Gregory. You’ve ssssslept on h’rd gr’nd for long ‘nough.” He managed, tongue heavy in his mouth. He was so going to regret drinking so much in the morning.

Greg stepped over and helped Mycroft up. Then came the offer to share again. Greg stayed quiet on the matter until they got upstairs to their room. He fished the key out of Mycroft’s robes, smirking at the giggle that came from the inebriated man. He let in the quaint room and set Mycroft on the bed. Greg wobbled and pilled onto the floor and leaned against the wall, a goofy grin on his face. “I win. You got the bed.” In his head, the logic was sound. Completely.

Mycroft giggled before shaking his head again. “No, c’mere. We can ssssssahre.” He got up, or attempted to before falling back onto the bed. “Gregory, don’t you want to sleep on something soft?”

Greg considered Mycroft and he smiled. “Yeah, hmkay,.” He stood, wobbled and took off his cloak. He tossed it in the general direction of a wooden chair in the corner and slid out of his lightweight boots. He took off his belt with his twin daggers and other things attached and set them on the floor, with his boots. He stumbled roward and his knees hit the bed, making him falling onto it. He giggled, laying on his face. “T’is soft, Myc.” The drink had taken his sense and thrown it out the door. He just lay there, face down, giggling incessantly.

Mycroft snorted, unstrapping his staff and setting it on the floor, kicking his boots off and throwing his cloak and dagger in that general direction. He flopped backwards, looking at his friend. “’Sreal soft,” he ageed. He reached over and ran gentle fingers through Gregory’s silver hair, observing how he became cat-like, leaning up into his hand.

“Keep th’t up n’ I’m yours,” Greg slurred, his lips not cooperating. He hummed as Mycroft continued to run his fingers through his hair, enjoying it a little too much. He lifted himself up on his arms and pulled his knees under him. He then crawled until he was nearly on top on Mycroft, one of his leg’s between Mycroft’s. He flopped down and grabbed Mycroft’s wrist, putting his hand back on his head. “More, ple’” he mumbled, his face buried in Mycroft’s shoulder.

Mycroft complied, running fingers through Gregory’s hair, and nuzzled his cheek. This was what he wanted, Gregory close to him, fingers in his hair. Maybe it was the alcohol on his system, but he found himself admitting- “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”  
Greg turned his head to look at Mycroft. They were so close, their noses were bumping. Greg giggled lightly, bringing his hand up to caress his cheek. He blinked, the smile falling from his face, replaced by a look of questioning. “Me...too. Myc...” He leaned in, his lips a breath from Mycroft’s. Was this what he wanted? Would they wake up in the morning and regret this? He didn’t care. This was right now. And right now, he wanted Mycroft.

Not caring if the morning brought regret and pain, Mycroft closed the gap and kissed him, noticing Gregory didn’t hesitate to kiss him back.  
It was heaven, feeling Gregory’s mouth against his. He supposed there was something to be said when you embark on a journey that seems to have no end with another person. He opened his mouth, inviting him in.

Greg kissed him back, sighing heavily. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. He tentatively edged his tongue between Mycroft’s lips, making small noise as their tongue met. His heart raced and his mind spun, and he knew for sure it wasn’t just the alcohol that did it. It was the man beneath him, his lips connected with his, his fingers tangled in his hair. This man he’d fancied for awhile now This mna...Mycroft. “Mm...” Greg hummed pressing against Mycroft, not close enough. Never close enough.

Mycroft wrapped an arm around Gregory, other hand still anchored in his hair. He moaned when Gregory’s tongue met his and opened his mouth wider, never close enough, closer.  
Gregory had successfully made his mind go silent, making way for the want and desire he had been hiding burst forth.

Greg shifted so he was fully on top of Mycroft, his chest pressed against his. This is was he’d been waiting for. All it took was a few drinks and a couple of admission? Christ. Greg straddled Mycroft, a leg on either side of him. He broke the kiss and sat up straight, pulling his tunic over his head and throwing it on the floor. He leaned back down and immediately went for Mycroft’s neck, kissing it lightly, resting his hands against the sides of Mycroft’s chest.

Mycroft leaned his head back, sighing at Gregory’s mouth on his neck. He ran hands over the muscles in Gregory’s back, chest and arms. H-how? he wondered. He started slightly when he felt hands under the hem of his tunic, but didn’t stop him. “Go ahead,” he whispered.

Greg sat back a bit and helped Mycroft out of his tunic, then...paused. Mycroft’s skin was covered in black runes, inked in and glowing slightly with a bluish hue. Greg reached out and outlined on, his fingers buzzing with the magical output of the mark. “W...wow...” Even in his drunken haze, he could tell they were beautiful works on art as well as magical devices. “I...I never knew, Myc. They’re amazing.” Greg leaned down and kissed one, feeling a charge vibrate through his lips, like a dull electric shock. He looked up at Mycroft. “You amaze me...”

Mycroft sighed, feeling Gregory’s lips on a rune. “When I was 14 I was given these. Around that time I was given a choice- become a Mage of the Templars or join the Circle. I chose the Circle for the choice of freedom. These are not only for protection from corruption of mind or magic, but also to keep it contained.” When Gregory shot him a look, he swallowed. “You’ve never seen me angry, Gregory. And an angry Mage doesn’t always remain in control.” He looked off to the side. “I watched him have to kill on of my friends when they got angry. Nothing would calm them down.”

“I promise to do whatever I can do to prevent that.” Greg smiled and rubbed reassuringly with his thumb on Mycroft’s side, his other hand traveling up his body to his cheek. “I don’t want to lose you not that I’ve gotten you.”

Mycroft looked at him in surprise. The last time he had a lover... “The last time someone saw these and didn’t know what they meant, they left. Didn’t want to worry about dealing with me.”

Greg leaned in and pressed his lips to Mycroft’s chest. “Point ‘em out, I’ll carve them up with Alorin,” Greg murmured against Mycroft’s skin. He lifted his eyes to look into Mycroft’s. “Mycroft..I will never abandon you. I won’t.” He smiled softly, honesty in his gold-brown eyes.

Mycroft’s breath caught in his throat and he pulled Gregory up for a kiss, heated and passionate. He tangled long fingers in his hair, feeling muscles move under his hands. Gregory had seen his runes and didn’t walk away, he was still here, still wanting him.

Greg made a soft noise against Mycroft’s mouth. This was what he wanted. He wanted all of my Mycroft. And he found the runes utterly gorgeous, because they were a part of him. They were Mycroft. And he wanted every last piece of him. “I need you. I really do,” Greg mumbled, his lips barely leaving Mycroft’s.

Mycroft whimpered against Gregory’s mouth. “Yes...please...” His hands went to Gregory’s trousers, pulling at them gently. “Please Gregory...please...”

Greg’s breath caught in his throat as Mycroft tugged at his trousers. “M...Myc...” He bit his lip. “A-are you sure?” Greg was nervous. It had been years since he’d been with anyone, YEARS. He wasn’t sure if he remembered what to do. He only knew he wanted Mycroft in a way he hadn’t felt in such a long time. He sat up, on his knees, still straddling Mycroft’s hips.

Mycroft nodded. “I’ve only been this of a few things, Gregory.” He cupped his cheek, smiling softly. He pulled him back down for another kiss, this one so heated their teeth knocked together. Mycroft slipped his tongue inside Gregory’s mouth, whimpering at the heat being left behind by his hands.

Greg’s hands traveled Mycroft’s bare chest, touching every inch of bare skin he could. His fingers brushed over nipples and he felt a slight shiver come from beneath him. Greg sucked Mycroft’s bottom lip between his own and pulled back before letting it go. He reached down and pulled at Mycroft’s trousers. “Off. Pants too. Please....” The need was desperate now, the need to feel him, to know him more.

Mycroft got hid clothing off before assisting Gregory with his. The sight of a naked Gregory was so bloody beautiful, Mycroft swore his friend was part god. He ran fingers over the muscles in Gregory’s stomach, them very defined. “Christ...” he whispered. “Look at you Gregory....look at you...”

Greg could say the same about Mycroft. His smooth skin with all those runes on him. His body, thin and beautifully detailed. Greg ran a hand from Mycroft’s hip, up his side, and over his chest before wrapping around him and pulling him close, nuzzling his cheek. “Mycroft....you’re so fucking gorgeous...so gorgeous...”

Mycroft leaned into his touch, the slightest touch along his runes sending sparks along his skin. “Gregory..” He whispered and kissed him again, parting his legs to let Gregory settle between them. He felt as though he were on fire with how much desire was burning through his veins.

Greg looked into Mycroft’s eyes, that piercing blue alive and seemingly glowing. It was beautiful to see. “Mycroft, you’re amazing.” Greg leaned in and kissed a rune on Mycroft’s shoulder, the energy making his fingers and toes tingle. “Tell me what you want and I will give it to you.”

Mycroft sucked in a breath and tipped his head back. Feeling Gregory’s attention in his runes was more than a little maddening. He turned his head and nosed at his ear. “Make love to me Gregory. Please.” He whispered, running a hand over his friend’s side.

Greg sucked in a breath and nodded. He got up for a moment and dug around in his bags. He hummed when he found what he was looking for: a small jar of petroleum jelly. He always kept it on him because of that one time he got severely burnt and they didn’t have any. He crawled back into bed and opened the jar. He took a little out and rubbed it on his fingers, then some on Mycroft’s entrance. “I’m going to use my fingers at first, so it doesn’t hurt, okay?”

Mycroft nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I trust you.” His eyes fluttered shut as he felt a finger enter him, a low moan coming from his throat. It had been so long since he’d been with anyone, and they’d turned away at the runes. “Ohhh~”

Greg bit his lip, sighing heavily at Mycroft’s heat around his fingers. He pushed in and out, curling his finger a bit. After a minute or so, he withdrew his finger and added another, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s knee. “God, Mycroft...”

Mycroft opened his eyes and looked at him. “Yes, Gregory,” he whispered. He moaned when he felt another finger inside of him, pressing in the right places, making his toes curl.  
Greg was breathing heavily, his heart racing. Greg leaned down and took Mycroft into his mouth, bobbing his head while moving his fingers, helping Mycroft to relax. He ran his free hand up to Mycroft’s thigh and gripped his hip.

“Oh!” Mycroft gasped, not expecting Gregory to take him in his mouth. Between the warmth around his cock and the fingers inside him, he had sparks flying over his skin.

Greg lifted his eyes to look at Mycroft. He marveled at the beauty before him and his cock twitched with longing. He slid off from around Mycroft and pulled his fingers out, curling them against Mycroft’s spot once more before doing so. He moved up and put some of the lube around himself. He put the tip of his cock against Mycroft’s entrance. “Are you ready? This is a lot more than two fingers...” He stroked Mycroft slowly as he asked.

Mycroft looked Gregory in the eye, seeing that his pupils had almost overtaken the iris, making brown eyes almost black. “I am yes,” he breathed, eyes fluttering as he felt Gregory slowly slide into him, reminding himself to relax, for tensing would not help ease the slight burn, but that was soon replaced with wondrous pleasure. “Oh, Gregory....”

Greg shuddered at the overwhelming heat around him. It was nearly enough to make him come right then. “Ohhh, god, Myc, you feel so amazing,” Greg moaned as he began to move, rocking his hips ever so slightly. He huffed, leaning down to kiss along the runes on Mycroft’s ribs each kiss sending a charge through him.

Mycroft felt like he was being shocked, but it was with pleasure. Each thrust of Gregory’s hips was perfect and he moved his hips with him, his own cock trapped between them. “Oh~ Yes, Gregory, oh,” He tangled a hand in his hair again, the other on Gregory’s shoulder.

Greg leaned up and pressed a kiss to Mycroft’s mouth, rolling his hips into Mycroft. He broke the kiss to press his lips to Mycroft’s collar, breathing short and quick. He reached a hand between them and stroked Mycroft’s cock in time with his thrusts. “Christ, Myc...hff...”

“Hah, yes~” Mycroft’s grip on his friend tightened, sparks becoming fire. “Gregory!” he gasped. It was so bloody good. And it was Gregory: his companion, his fighting partner-his lover.

Greg groaned as Mycroft cried out. He couldn’t hold back much longer, the heat pooling in his gut. “Come for me, Mycroft. Come for me.” Greg rocked faster into him, continuing to stroke him. Greg’s mind was filled with wonder as looked at Mycroft. His skin seemed to be glowing, the runes pulsing with an ethereal luminescence. He rubbed this thumb against one of Mycroft’s arm and felt more energy shoot through him. It was enough. He gasped as his release took him by surprise. He thrust hard into Mycroft, letting go of himself and his hand pausing on Mycroft’s cock. “Ohhh Mm-yyc..-!” he moaned, his forehead pressed into Mycroft’s shoulder.

Mycroft’s eyes shot open, feeling Gregory come. The thumb on his rune set the others aflame. He came, Gregory’s name on his lips. “Gregory!” His hands tightened on his lover, momentarily locking them together. This runes were glowing a deep blue, something he had never seen before.

He also didn’t expect the rune for love to appear on Gregory’s chest.

Greg felt a burning on his chest, right over his hear, but he didn’t pay it any mind. He breathed hard against Mycroft’s shoulder, pressing his lips there, finding the runes and kissing them. Each time he did, he felt his chest burn a little more. “Myc...I just noticed...you have freckles.” Greg outlined some with his finger, smiling. “And when I thought you couldn’t get any more perfect...”

Mycroft snorted. “Please.” He traced the runes on Gregory’s chest, feeling a spark along his. “Gregory...this rune is for love.” He whispered. He looked up at him. “That...that doesn’t happen often.”

Greg glanced down at his chest, blinking at the glowing mark on his chest. “Wh...what?” He touched it and pulled his hand back quickly. It still hurt a bit, but not when Mycroft touched it. “Odd....” He noticed a new one on the same sport on Mycroft. “Look, Myc. You have it too.”

Mycroft glanced down, eyes widening at the new rune. Love, his mind supplied. Licking his lips, he looked back at Gregory. “What I’ve read says that this only happens when your one True Love is among the spells casters. That...” He touched his own, seeing Gregory shudder. “You are always reminded of who you are meant to be with- that you are fated.”

“I...I never knew.” Truth was, though, Greg had felt a connection with Mycroft. Ever since the day they met. They worked well together, their fighting styles so complimentary of each other, how amazingly they got along and just seemed to know when the other was in need...Greg was just too stupid to see the signs. “So...we are meant to be together? That...we were destined to fall in love?”

Mycroft nodded. “I never thought...” He cleared his throat. “I thought I’d never get that. I’m cold to others. You remember, when we first met. ‘Cold as ice’, Gregory had said once.

“Myc...I never meant that,” Greg stated. Yes, Mycroft had been off-putting with how he acted towards Greg, being generally flippant and uncaring of how people thought of him, but they grew to understand each other well. “I’ve learned that you aren’t cold at all. You’re full of this warmth that I feel that only a few people have seen....”

“Only two. You and my brother, Sherlock.” Mycroft didn’t talk about his brother often, given that the day Mycroft left his dear little brother thought he was abandoning him. He glanced at Gregory.  
“Your brother. You hardly talk about him.” Greg tilted his head and rested his cheek on Mycroft’s chest, right over the newest rune. “Tell me about him. He’s younger, right?” Greg smiled.

“Eight years my junior. He was practically my shadow, minus the fact he is a sorcerer and not a Mage. Just as intelligent, if not more so, than I. Can play like a muse, learned magic faster than me.” He smiled fondly, remembering.

“Smarter than you?” Greg snorted. “I don’t see how that’s possible.” He grinned at Mycroft’s smile. “See? That look on your face isn’t cold at all. It’s beautiful. Full of love. You love him.”

Mycroft chuckled. “I do. Then there was the time we both almost ended up in the slave trade.”

Greg startled and blinked. “What!?” The thought that he may never had met Mycroft was unimaginable. “How the hell did you manage to get out?”

“Two stubborn Holmes and magic. Really Gregory, do you think we didn’t put up a fight?” He kissed him to calm him, running a hand over his cheek.

“Well, I’m bloody glad you...yeah...” Greg took a breath. Just the mere possibility of that made him shudder. He’d seen the way those slaves were treated. It was abominable and hugely grotesque. “I’m so glad you didn’t get traded away...”

“As am I. I may wield magic but I am not less than dirt.” He nuzzled him, inhaling his scent. “I would have never met you.”

“I...I know.” He didn’t want to think about it. The aspect of it hurt. “So...does Sherlock specialize in a certain area?”

“Illusion magic and trickery. He can make you believe you’re a frog if he so chose. He made the priest in my village believe he was actually the Anti-Christ. That was an interesting day.” He tilted Gregory’s chin up and pressed a kiss to his nose.

Greg giggled, tilting his head to sneak a kiss at Mycroft’s lips. “He sounds like fun.” Greg sighed happily, laying his cheek on Mycroft’s chest, tracing a few runes with the tip of his finger. “Were your parents magical?”

“Not in the least. Seems it skips generations. They were surprised when we were both magical.” At first their parents didn’t know what to do with two users of the Arts in their homes but soon figured it out. But of course the two of them got into more trouble than anything.

“How’d they handle that? Bloody hell. I’ve seen you in action. Lord.” It was somewhat funny to imagine, one day your child starts freezing things mid-air or making you think you forgot something in the other room when it’s in your hand. Greg snorted at the thought.

“They found a tutor faster than I thought possible.” Mycroft chuckled. “We would gang up on our tutor however. That was fun.”

Greg smiled widely. “Oh, really? Tell me more.” He loved hearing about Mycroft’s life before they met.

Mycroft smiled slyly. “While talented, our tutor did not stand a chance against my brother and I. We would constantly freeze them then make them believe they were suppised to be cold.” He laughed at the memory. “We also made them think they were a canned peach once.”

Greg laughed loudly. “A canned peach? Bloody hell that’s hilarious.” He couldn’t imagine how the hell they managed that one. “How does one think that they’re a canned fruit?”

“By icing them enough they can’t move and then somehow making the brain believe it is a fruit. Sherlock would be better able to answer that part of the question, after all he is the illusionist.” Hearing Gregory laugh warmed his heart- he wanted to bottle it up and keep it to himself.

“Amazing. Though, remind me never to be around you both when you are feeling tricky.” Greg leaned up and pressed his to Mycroft’s briefly. “You’re brilliant. I’m constantly amazed by you.”

Mycroft smiled. “We haven’t done that in years. The last time was when we were almost sold to be slaves. We never played tricks like that again.”

Greg went quiet. He went back to tracing Mycroft’s runes. He wondered what they meant, other than the one they shared. “Myc...do all of these have words to them?”

Mycroft nodded. “‘Protect’, ‘contain’, ‘purify’, to name a few. All of the runes mean something. Here,” he twisted and showed him one that had been “‘Obey’ was that one. The Templars got the idea that they would command us. We all refused so they attempted to make us obey with this rune.”

“So...cutting it disrupts it’s meaning?” Greg traced down the cut. “You were right to do that. You’re your own man. You shouldn’t have to take orders from the Templars. I learned a long time ago that you have to find your own way in this world...”

“It only works if you do it within a moon cycle. If it still there after the next new moon, it stays. You can’t get rid of it, even if you cut it. I was among the first to cut mine.” Mycroft smiled grimly. “I left the next morning-making Sherlock hate me forever.”

Greg looked up at Mycroft. “Hey, I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. I’m sure he understands why you left. He’s a smart kid, right?” Greg smiled reassuringly. Then, his eyes lit up with an idea. “Let’s go back. You can see him again. I’ll be with you in case anything goes wrong.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Gregory, that’s 100 miles northeast from here. It would take us days to get there. Besides, we have a job, remember?” He wasn’t against seeing his little brother again...but he was worried about how he would react.

“I meant after the job. We could get horses with the money we get from it.” Greg reached up and cupped Mycroft’s cheek. “You should see him. I’ll be there for you. I promise.”

Mycroft considered him for a moment before nodding. “Alright. It would be nice to see my old home again.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Gregory’s palm. “I haven’t been there for nearly 10 years.”

“Then a visit it definitely due, love. Wouldn’t be nice to see your mum and dad too?” Greg yawned, shaking his head a bit. “Been a long day, Myc...”

“It would be yes,” Mycroft agreed, before coaxing Gregory to lay down beside him. “Sleep now. We can talk in the morning.”

Greg wrapped an arm around Mycroft and pulled him to him, hooking a leg around one of Myc’s. “Mm. Tomorrow. Gonna be a doozy..m’head alread’s starting to hurt...”

“Might have something to do with the three pints we drank with no food.” He replied, chuckling. “We’ll deal with it in the morrow. Goodnight Gregory.” He pressed a kiss to his lover’s head before slipping into sleep.


	2. The One with the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rather eventful night, Mycroft and Greg remember.. Well, a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here it is, chapter 2! Chapter 3 will (hopefully) be up by the end of the week!

With the sound of birds chirping and the dim light of sunrise filtering through the dusty window, Greg blinked open his eyes, his body warm and relaxed. The first sight he saw was a sleeping Mycroft, his gingery hair mussed with sleep and their sudden show of their true feelings for each other last night. Greg smiled warmly and, as he did, a faint blue glow caught his eye. The rune they had both acquired last night over their hearts signifying they were the others true love- Mycroft's was glowing. Greg felt his chest warm as he traced his fingers over the magical mark, amazed.

 

Mycroft's eyes fluttered open, stretching and reaching for Gregory before he was even fully awake. He found his love, and he sat up, cuddling close. "/Morning Gregory\" He mumbled, not realizing he had spoken in the language of the Magi.

 

Greg cocked his head, and looked at Mycroft. "Uh, love?" Greg chuckled, loving the sound of a sleepy Mycroft. Usually the man was up before Greg and already focused and ready for the day. This change of pace was beautiful.

 

Mycroft blinked, then reset his brain. "Good Morning. Apologizes. Usually I'm awake before you and don't have to consciously switch back to Common." He smiled at his silver-haired rouge.  "How's the head?" He ran a hand through his ginger hair and wrinkled his nose. "A bath is in order."

 

"Attached-" Greg winced as he moved slightly "-unfortunately." He slowly sat up next to Mycroft and stretched his arms up over his head, the covers slipping down to his hips. He made a groaning noise and then sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Bath. Yeah." He glanced at Mycroft. "Together, yeah?"

 

"Together sounds divine." Mycroft said, and slipped from the bed, the sunlight making his skin look alabaster white. He rubbed a blue eye and located his pack. The Mage got out a clean tunic and leggings, both a dark green. "Coming darling?"

 

Greg could sit there and admire the beauty that just was Mycroft for hours and hours. His thin, yet strong frame, his skin with the dark runes on it, the light freckles over his arms and back and shoulders... But he got up anyway. He crouched next to his pack and pulled out a clean pair of cloth trousers, a lightweight tunic with shortened sleeves and a leather woven belt with jade stones woven into it. The mystic woman he'd bought it from said the jade was supposed to be enchanted with some kind of strengthening spell, but Greg had never noticed a difference when he wore it. He found his shin bracers in the bottom of his pack and pulled them out, a visual reminder for him to wear them later. He stood and followed Mycroft into the small bathing room.

 

"The jade is empty." Mycroft said off-handedly. The bathing room was empty, Mycroft  selecting sweet smelling salts. He set his clothing off to the side and fell into the water. When he broke the surface, he caught Gregory looking. "Aren't you going to join me?"

 

Setting his clothes with Mycroft's, Greg stepped into the warm water. He groaned happily and settled him so only his nose and up was above the surface. He smiles and closed his eyes. The basin pretty much took up the room, a miniature bathhouse of a sorts. Mycroft had managed to get one of the ground floor rooms so the bathing room was more than just a wooden tub with mildly warm water. This was a large pool-like basin, set into the ground. It was made of stone and was fed by a direct hot spring. Greg loved these types of pools, especially when he didn't have to be somewhat clothed to be in it.

 

Mycroft looked around, licking his lips. He ducked under the water again, before grabbing a handful of salts and started scrubbing them into his skin. The last time the two of them had had a good bath was months ago, only taking quick dips in the river while travelling. Once he was clean, he moved over and started working the salts into Gregory's hair and skin, helping relieve him of his headache, pressing kisses to his temple at random intervals.    
"Remember how we met? And the dragon we fought?

 

Humming softly, Greg nodded. "I pickpocketed you. Two whole plat." He cracked an eye at Mycroft, smirking. "And you didn't even notice." 

 

"I didn't notice at first, you mean." The Mage corrected gently.

 

Greg remembered that day well…..

He had just gotten into town and was starving. He'd been on the run from a group of thieves he'd stolen from and was hiding in the nearby town of Galliea. With only his prized daggers and a gold or two, Greg had made his run and gotten out unscathed, but he wouldn't be able to return to the thief settlement of Frei-Gorin, 7 miles from the southern gates of Galliea. The gates were closing as he slipped in for the night and he was able to pickpocket one of the guards on the way through, earning himself four more silver. He smiled and found the inn, bunking in one of the budget rooms for the night. In the morning, he set out about the town again, stealing food and gold from vendors for a while.... until he spotted this gingery man in the long robes and the fancy staff. Greg tailed him all day, waiting... until he bumped passed him, quickly slipped his fingers into the man's coin pouch and said his apologies. "Oi, sorry, mate, didn't see yah there," Greg said with a thick, fake Galliean accent.

 

Mycroft glared at the man. "Keep your feet under you and you wouldn't have to be apologizing." he snapped coldly, before walking away. He had been on the run for a few months now, and he was hoping that he would be able to sell his robe. It stuck out, making him easy to pick out. He eventually found a vendor who bought it and he slipped on his new earth tone robe, smiling happily. That's when he noticed he was missing two plat. "Damnit, I need to redo my anti-pickpocket charm."

After a few hours, he slipped from town, and that's when he felt someone behind him, attempting to follow him. "I know you're back there."

Greg froze, knowing he was perfectly concealed in the late afternoon shadows. He stepped out and made a face. "Now how in the bloody hell could you tell I was following you?" Greg asked in his own Bel-Hiem accent. He was a long way from home but, being a rogue, he traveled. "There's no way you heard me."

 

Mycroft turned, looking at him. "Oh. Hello again. And I am a /Mage/, I have to be aware of my surroundings." He was iced over, words clipped, glaring. "A rogue then. Are you among the thieves? Most of you are." He had ran into several rogues, and he was not happy about how much gold they had gotten off of him. He furrowed his brow. He snapped his fingers and his two missing plat came of out the rogue's pocket. "Thank you."  He said coldly.

 

"Hey! I WAS coming to return those, actually. Two platinum is too much for a common rogue to have anyway," Greg huffed, face turning red. "/Prat,\" he added in Thievescant, the secret tongue of thief society. He glared at the mage, regretting even trying to have good intentions. /That'll teach ya, Greg. Stick with stealing./

 

Mycroft knew the last was in Thieves Cant, and he also knew it was only spoken among thieves. "/Bastard\" he shot back in Magi. "And I have seen plenty of thieves with 2 plat." He sneered.

 

"If they had bloody plat they wouldn't be thieves. They'd be burglars." Greg crossed his arms and snorted. "Know you classifications of thief society before trying to argue. I was a burglar." Greg reached into his pouch and pulled out what he had. "I am again a thief. I own two gold and seven silver." He threw it on the ground, kicking it away. "Now I'm simply a nomadic rogue. Get the picture? Classes are based on your value. With nothing, you are nothing." He walked passed the man, bumping his shoulder. "Well met, mage," he muttered, continuing down the path. He suddenly didn't care about that money. It wasn't like he didn't have another pouch of seven gold and thirty silver concealed in the small of his back.

 

Mycroft shook his head, then felt the rune of danger flare on his back. He turned and saw a dragon flying at the town. An alarm went off in the town, just as the dragon descended. Within seconds, the town was in ruins and the great beast was flying away. Without thinking about it, Mycroft went charging after it, managing to get a tracking ruin on one of it's tail plates.

 

Greg saw the shadow pass overhead and heard running footsteps. He looked up just as the dragon roared past. "Holy hell!" Greg yelled. He turned and looked over his shoulder. The fires and smoke from the town filled the sky behind a swiftly approaching figure. Greg turned again and dove into the woods that lined the path, climbing a tree to see who was coming.   
/That mage... after the dragon?/ Greg leaped down and sprinted through the forest, swiftly and silently, matching pace with the mage on the path.

Mycroft skidded to a halt outside what appeared to be an old dungeon, considering the entrance. "You might as well come out," he called, knowing the rogue was there.

 

Greg dashed out to meet him, twin daggers already drawn. "Oh, hi there, mage. Fancy meeting you here, huh?" He smirked and nodded towards the entrance, where growling noises could be heard from its depths. "Here there be dragons, it seems?"

 

"So it seems." He sighed. "I would like to apologize for earlier. I did not mean to insult you. I've run into too many rogues these past few months." He glanced over. "Mycroft," he said, before hearing a definite human scream from inside the dungeon. Mycroft quickly drew his staff and casted a map spell, it appearing on the ground, a red ruin indicating where the dragon was and a blue one showing where the human was. And the dragon was almost to the human.

 

They ran into the dungeon, Greg following the mage, Mycroft. They came upon a cavern-like area, the black and scaly beast terrorizing a young maiden. Greg twirled his daggers, the mithryl flashing brilliantly, even in the low lighting of the cavern. "Name's Greg, by the way. Nice to meet ya, though the circumstances were a bit tricky." Greg flashed a small smile. The dragon roared, steaming saliva dripping from its gaping maw as the young woman screamed again, begging in Galliean. Greg pointed at Mycroft then pointed to the right. He then started to head left, melting into the deep shadows, seeming to become invisible.

 

Mycroft moved close to the wall, not moving as stealthily as Gregory, but it was enough. He could make out a bit of what the woman was saying, but not fully. He was more graceful than most Magi, but he had nothing on the rogue. He accidentally tripped, which thankfully distracted the dragon from the woman. Mycroft quickly got back up, firing a spell directly at its eyes.

 

Greg took that as a signal of sorts and darted forward, climbing the beast and sinking his daggers into the shoulder joints, disabling the wings. "RUN!" he shouted at the woman. She stumbled out and away from the dragon and into the catacombs. They might have to try and find her later, but at least she was out of immediate danger. "Aim for the underarms!" Greg shouted as he reared back with his daggers and forced the dragon to rear back, screeching in pain and anger. Fire erupted from its throat and roared against the stone ceiling, white hot.

 

Mycroft darted under the dragon's belly, turning. When it reeled back, he fired ice at its underarms, before rolling out of the way. The dragon's eyes locked on to the Mage and he grounded himself, a pentacle appearing on the ground underneath him. He would only get one shot... When the dragon opened its mouth again, he fired ice into its mouth. It spun, its tail colliding with Mycroft, throwing him into the far wall.

 

Greg clung to his daggers as the dragon's head collided with a wall, shattering like glass. There was a beat of silence as the dragon's body slumped lifelessly to the ground. Greg was breathing hard, his knuckles white around the grips of his daggers. He jerked them out of the scaly beast's flesh and slid down its body smoothly, landing on his toes. He looked up at the dragon and smiled. "Bloody HELL!! That was so amazing! Mycroft that was-" He then noticed the mage slumped against the far wall. "Ah! Mycroft!!" Greg sprinted over to the man and skidded on his knees next to him. "Oi! Wake up, come on. You just slayed a bloody dragon. Ye can't just go to sleep." He laughed nervously, worried for the mage.

 

Mycroft shook himself awake, holding his head. "Ow...it got me good." He had a cut on his cheek. He spat out a mouth full of blood, coughing a bit. He looked up at the rogue, vision blurry. "Sdead?"

 

"You broke his head. It's in  a million pieces over there." Greg pointed in the general direction of the dead beast. He pulled out some bandaging cloth and a stitching needle. "Hold still, alright?" With Greg's mum having been a healer back in Bel-Hiem, he picked up on some of the stuff that didn't require magicks, including salves, stitches, and bandaging. Greg pulled out a small vial of a potent alcohol and sterilised the needle.

 

Mycroft watched as Gregory got a needle ready and made himself stay still. He hated needles, hated them with a burning passion. He focused on the wall across from him, sitting on his hands. He inhaled sharply when he felt it pierce his skin.

 

"Easy..." Greg soothed like his mother did with him one of the many times he'd needed stitches. "Try to breathe normally, alright?" Greg bit his lip as he pulled the thread through the skin and sealed the wound. He used a small knife to cut the thread and put a pain-killing salve on the wound. "There. Mostly good as new, eh?" He smiled and leaned back, looking at Mycroft. "I don't see any other injuries aside from prob'ly a bruised arse. Maybe." Greg chuckled and stood up, offering Mycroft his hand.

 

Mycroft took the offered hand, holding onto the rogue for a minute before he got his bearings. He blinked and looked around. "Seems this is its hoard." He glanced at his companion. "Shall we loot? You never know what you can find in a dragon's hoard." He  started forward slowly. He looked at the dragon. "Holy Circle...that ice sure did it."

 

Greg chuckled. "Loot if you want. You're the one who killed it." He took a step back and waved his hands forward. "You earned that."

 

Mycroft dug around and found a ring that actually belonged to his family. "Huh. What are the chances?" He slipped it on, smiling.

Mycroft kept looking, when he noticed them. Two blades, twins, Alorin and T'ansin. No use to him, but..."Gregory," he called, beckoning the rogue over. He climbed over the mounds of treasure and very carefully retrieved them.

"Look at these. No use to me, but for you...as a rogue, they would be perfect.”

 

Greg looked up and cocked his head. He made his way over and took the blades from Mycroft. "T'ansin..." he said quietly, looking at the one that seemingly vibrated in his hands when named. "... and Alorin." The other blade did the same. Greg smiled. "Of elvish make. Probably made of zurreltium. Harder than diamonds." He looked up at Mycroft. "You sure you don't want them? They could be sold for a fortune and a half to the right traders."

 

Mycroft shook his head. "I don't want money, Gregory. I don't want to be found. And to sell those...that would attract a lot of attention. I'm just fine with my staff."

He handled his staff with ease, slipping it back into its holster on his back.

 

Greg looked back down at the blades, their dark green cloth and leather sheaths ornate and elegant. He set them down momentarily to undo the straps on his belt, pulling the mithryl daggers from his hips. He then strapped Alorin to his left side and T'ansin to his right. He then quickly drew them, twirling them swiftly through the air before gripping them, the blades flat against his forearms. "The weighting is perfect..." he mumbled, a small smile on his face. He leaped off the pile orly treasures and buried the blades into the hard stone floor, they sliding easily through it, like a knife through soft leather. "Whoa, that'll do some damage..."

 

Mycroft watched, smiling. "That they will." He slid down, stumbling for only a second. "Where did the woman go? I hope not the catacombs. We could get lost down there."

He felt another ruin heat up. "For the love of all things good," he turned and sprinted down the entrance to the catacombs.

 

Greg looked towards the entrance and went to answer just as a scream sounded loudly. "Oh no," Greg sprinted behind Mycroft, boots hardly making a sound. It was like a labyrinth, multiple passages. Some lead to nothing, some to deadly traps, and some to freedom. Greg heard the sound of rushing water somewhere and splashing. "Do you think she's in the underground systems?"

 

"I pray not." He made a ball of light in his hand and started throwing them down the tunnels. One blinked red and then flew away, while the others went out. "That way!" They went sprinting down the hall, following the ball of light. At one point it turned so abruptly, they both went crashing into the wall.

 

"Ah!" Greg gave a shout, rubbing his nose, before running after the light again. They didn't have time to waste. A scream echoed through the damp corridors and then a loud splash. Greg watched as the light shot out into the air in the middle of a large cavern, the basin of which was filled with water. The light burst out, illuminating the ente place in a bright red light.

 

Mycroft skidded to a halt. He traced a shape in the air and the light changed to yellow instead of red. The woman was struggling to stay above the surface of the water. The two men exchanged a look and soon they were throwing blades and wool clothing to the side, diving into the cold water.

 

Greg swam alongside the mage, both of them getting to the struggling woman. They each put an arm around their shoulders and swam to the edge of the water, helping her out of it. Greg climbed out and put his cloak around her shoulders, talking to her in Galliean. She looked at him and spoke softly in Thievescant. Greg nodded and looked up to Mycroft. "She's from the settlement at the south of the town. She was buying supplies for her family when the dragon attacked and took her away." She spoke again, looking between them. "She thanks us for saving her twice."

 

"Thieves Cant." Mycroft noted. "You're welcome." He nodded at her. "Can you walk ma'am?" When she nodded, he dove into the water again, swimming to the middle. He treaded the water and started chanting, pulling wood from the water and it coming together like a raft. He pushed it to the shore. "Since you need help getting across the water," he said sheepishly.

 

Greg relayed this to her and she nodded, clambering onto the raft. Greg stuffed his clothing in his pack and put it on to the raft with her. He then slipped back into the water and started to push it. "To the other side?" he asked Mycroft.

 

"To the other side." Mycroft agreed. They started pushing, swimming alongside the raft. It didn't take long to get to the other shore, where the two of them sat down and caught their breath. "Bloody dragon," the Mage muttered.

 

Greg huffed a laugh. "Well, if he wasn't before..." he said, smirking. He helped the young woman from the raft and started putting his clothes back on.

 

Mycroft pulled his cloak back on and slid his staff back on. He chuckled. "I suppose Gregory." He smiled, taming his hair again. He gently got the woman to her feet and created another light to lead them out.

 

Greg walked behind, the woman between them. He had his new daggers drawn, lain back against his arms, an instinct of his for stealth and maneuverability. As he felt the breezes of the outside world flit over his skin, he sighed. It was now nearly dark, the sun having almost completely set.

 

They managed to get the woman back to the town before they closed for the night. Mycroft stayed out, ready to move on. He looked over at the rogue. "You moving on as well Gregory?"

 

Greg nodded, looking to the east. He paused for a long while before looking back over at Mycroft. "Let's travel together. We make a good duo and I'm tired of traveling alone." He smiled. "What say you, mage?"

 

The Mage of the Family Holmes smiled. "I say that sounds grand, rouge. I warn you though- I don't always play fair." He touched the stitches on his cheek. "Nor am I careful 100% of the time."

 

"Sounds like my kind of man!" Greg laughed, punching Mycroft's arm lightly. "Where to?"   
\--   
"'Where to' I had said, huh?" Greg hummed, leaning back into Mycroft, the warm water around them soothing his muscles. "And now look at us." He turned and looked at Mycroft, a smile on his lips. "Now look at us." He traced Mycroft's new rune lightly.

 

"If I remember correctly, we ran into the same band of thieves we were both running from the next day." Mycroft hummed, shivering when Gregory touched his ruin. It hadn't always been smooth sailing, running out money then food, fighting about what now they both knew were ridiculous fights and more than once resorting to Gregory's thieving skills to get them at least bread to eat.

 

"And if I remember correctly, we kicked arse too," Greg said with a smirk. "And... remember that one time we didn't speak for three days over the fact that the last hunk of bread went missing and we both thought the other did it when it was just a raccoon?"

 

"I do. We were both rather at each other's throats for that month. No villages or towns for us to buy food, water, anything." They had nearly starved if they hadn't managed to take a group of thieves by surprise and take their food and gold.

 

Greg made a face. That had been awful. They had been weak with hunger and exhaustion. If it hadn't been for Mycroft and his freezing spells, they would have probably been killed. "Yeah. Let's... not let that happen again, alright?" Greg leaned forward and nuzzled Mycroft's neck, the smells of the sweet salts fresh on his damp skin.

 

"Let's not. We plan better now. And we've learned to ration food a lot better." He kissed Gregory sweetly, nuzzling his cheek. "/Mine.\" he murmured, before kissing him again.

 

Greg yelped into Mycroft's kiss, jumping back a bit. The rune on his chest was now burning, but... not in a bad way? Greg felt his stomach flutter with arousal and... he was confused. "What? What was that? What did you say?" Greg looked at Mycroft, confusion in his brown eyes.

 

Mycroft felt a flash of want through his own runes, confused as well. "All I said was 'mine' in Magi. That’s it! Just... /Mine\" There is was again, and they both looked at each other, now breathing hard, heat polling in Mycroft's stomach.

 

Greg bit his lip, moaning softly with the word. "Oh-oh Gods..." He backed into the far wall of the basin, hand over his heating rune. "I... I don't..." He was oddly aroused by the word the tingling sensation spreading from the mark on his chest.

 

"/Mine\" Mycroft said again. There it was again. The flash of want. "Gregory...I think we should...go back to the room." He was trying to keep it under control, but he was soon going to lose it.

 

Greg nearly fell fully into the water, his legs not wanting to function properly. He huffed a breath and braced himself against the wall, his heart pounding hard in time with the pulsing if the rune. "I don't... think I'm able to, Myc..." he said shakily.

 

Licking his lips, the Mage strode forward and grabbed his Rogue, kissing him roughly. The collapsed into the water, separating long enough to get back to the surface.

Mycroft spat out a mouth full of water, before Gregory was on him, nearly dunking him under again. "Gregory!"

 

Greg couldn't control himself. Whatever was happening, he was not opposed at all. "Myc..." Greg spun them in the water and pressed Mycroft against the wall, his lips pressing to Mycroft's, needy and wanting.

 

Mycroft surrendered, not fighting Gregory as he took control. The Rogue was physically stronger than him, and Mycroft knew that if they ever got in a physical fight, he would lose. He wrapped his long legs around Gregory's waist, a hand tangling in silver hair.

 

Greg kissed Mycroft passionately, nibbling on his lower lip. "Oh gods, Mycroft..." he murmured, making his way to Mycroft's neck, slowing down. The heat in the rune on his chest was fading, making the arousal not as potent. He nuzzled Mycroft's neck sensually.

 

Mycroft looked at the door and considered for a moment before letting his legs fall to the floor of the tub. "We need to dry off before we get walked in on love." He murmured against that beautiful mouth. As much as fun as they could have here...he didn't want to get caught. He looked at his bonded, smiling softly.

 

Greg nodded, kissing Mycroft's neck again before backing away and stepping out of the water. He was very obviously aroused but wrapped a towel around himself anyway. "Bedroom?" He asked, a heated glance passing between them.

  
The Mage smirked. "Bedroom." He wrapped a towel around himself and slipped from the room, his clothing tucked under his arm. His runes were still buzzing with energy, but he knew, soon, that they would both be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> i_am_greg_lestrade and I are pulling from several Fantasy worlds here so if you're looking for a canon world....there isn't one.


End file.
